Rhyme and Reason
by RobbiP
Summary: TWO CHAPTERS Takes place right after the Defiant One. Sheppard and McKay try to reason through what happened and what is happening between them. Spoilers. McShep Slash. Foul language and homophobia.
1. Reason

"You're Spock."

McKay nearly jumped out of his seat. He'd been flying for the past 8 hours and Sheppard had been completely silent, a miracle, as far as he was concerned. Why speak up now? "Excuse me?"

"You, Rodney McKay, are Spock."

McKay hazarded a glace to his side. Sheppard's eyes were closed, scrunched tight in the half-wince the man'd been wearing since the Wraith basically kicked the shit out of him. Now it was made worse by the bruise forming down the entire length of that pretty face. "And how, may I ask, did you arrive at that brilliant conclusion, Major?"

"If I'm Kirk, and Beckett's McCoy, then you've got to be Spock."

"Says who, the intergalactic council of science fiction character recycling?"

"No, actually, says I."

"Ah, so now you're the grand arbiter of anything and everything."

"Yup."

"We're doomed. Besides, I really don't see the logic to that, I mean last time I checked I didn't have pointy ears, and I'm nothing..."

Sheppard giggled, then clutched his chest with a gasp. McKay fought the urge to leap out of his seat to the major's side, he'd only get yelled at for his efforts. "You said Logic," Sheppard guffawed. It reminded McKay of his stupid little nephew when asked about the planets. You said Your-anus.

"And that means what, exactly? I'm a _scientist_. Unlike some people, we are occasionally required to use reason instead of pure testosterone and bravado to make our way through life."

Sheppard frowned, but kept his eyes closed. McKay could tell that he had a headache, from the bloodloss or lack of sleep or getting wacked with the force of a sledgehammer in the side of the face. But the major'd already maxed out on the safe dosage of Tylenol and he was refusing their newly stocked supply of morphine. "I use other stuff too. Like strategy. And guns."

"Oh, well, that makes it all better then. Let's all celebrate Sheppard and his guns a'blazing glory. Especially seeing as how it nearly got him killed today." The last part came out weak and McKay felt ashamed, especially when Sheppard's eyes flew open and he turned to face him, showing the full extent of the deepening purple bruising. He'd been lucky the Wraith didn't crack his jaw or shatter his cheekbone. It would be a shame to mar a face like that, McKay thought. Though the face wasn't at all necessary for what they did to each other.

"I did what I had to do, Rodney." When had this situation suddenly turned serious? Then again, the reason McKay had insisted they fly back alone, right away, hadn't just been concern for the major's health. He knew they needed to talk. And they needed to know what they were going to say. They had just fucked up big-time and there was no way they were going to escape this without more than casual scrutiny. They couldn't afford to have anyone dig too deep.

"No, John, you didn't."

"What was I supposed to do?! Let him contact his buddies? Wait until nightfall where he could force us out into the cold? Let him roam around unchecked? Not everything can be solved sitting on your pampered ass cowering and waiting for some to step in and save you!" Sheppard was panting now, the swelling must have hampered his breathing. Not that it would stop him when he was mad. McKay remembered Sheppard yelling at him even when he was half-choked by that stupid Wraith bug.

"I don't know, maybe you could have relied on someone else for once. I know you like to be your own one-man commando force. Sheppard the fucking terminator. You like to arrange your little contingency plans with Bates and Stackhouse and leave the rest of your own team out of it, in case we blab. Yeah, like when you went off on your own trying to rescue Sumner when you're the only one who can fly the stupid ship!"

"Hey, I saved our asses. And you," Sheppard pointed a finger halfheartedly, "you have the worse poker face I've ever seen." That was how Sheppard first got him naked. Strip poker, where Sheppard had only lost his watch and his left boot. "You would've let the Genii in on our plan within five minutes if I'd told you. Just like..." Sheppard stopped, looking down in shame. Neither of them talked about what Kolya'd done to McKay. Even when he woke up sweating and crying and disturbed Sheppard's sleep, neither of them would acknowledge it. Hugs and comfort were for fairies. Men just rolled over and went back to sleep. Though he could see his nostrils flaring, McKay saw the familiar veil of control drop over Sheppard's features. They both knew that bringing it up now would just be plain old petty.

McKay looked down at his hands, knowing they were shaking and that he was not flying in a straight line. "But you still could have trusted Elizabeth. Trusted me."

Sheppard sighed, as though the entire conversation was just a plain old annoyance to him, nothing more. "I do."

"No you don't."

"I trust you enough to let you fuck me." The hatred was clear in Sheppard's voice. McKay was momentarily taken aback. Was Sheppard ashamed? There was nothing wrong with the act in and of itself. It was just sex. There was no scientific reason it needed to develop into attachment.

"And a whole lot of good that's done." Back in the ship, they'd left Abrams and Gaul. They'd been too fucking horny after that 15-hour trip, flirting and teasing each other with a pinch of a thigh or the swipe of a tongue, to listen to reason. They were on a downed Wraith ship. Even if they were positive there was no threat, they shouldn't have left the two newbies alone on and alien planet with those bodies.

McKay tried to push memories of that quick mutual handjob from his mind. I couldn't have taken more than a couple of minutes, but it cost so much. It was absolutely disgusting how he trotted off after Sheppard like a dog eager for a bone, how elated he felt when Sheppard ambushed him from behind, those skilled hands on his cock. But no matter how good it felt, it wasn't worth it.

And they didn't even think there could have been any survivors until afterwards. What if Sheppard had asked him the second they were out of earshot? What if they had thought of it when they were all four together, instead of focusing on their out-of-control hormones? And now Brendan and Scott were dead… dead because they couldn't keep it in their pants for and entire day.

How many other times had they put themselves at risk? The time on the Genii homeworld when McKay rushed off after Sheppard for a quickie in a field of wildflowers, to which he could have easily been allergic, before heading through to talk to Weir. The time when Rodney had been too busy getting his brains fucked out by dream-Sheppard to realize he wasn't in the proper reality. That Outer Limits Episode had to be the biggest subconscious clue ever. Other than Sheppard's dead friends, apparently. And what about the time he'd let Sheppard shot him in the leg, all because of a little crush?

Sheppard's brows furrowed. "Stop thinking so much. You're making my head hurt." McKay highly doubted he was the origin of what looked like a massive headache, no matter how much of a pain in the ass he was. They really shouldn't be talking about this now. But what other time did they have? Weir wasn't going to give them time shift through their sexual entanglements before she wanted to talk.

McKay snapped, "I'm always thinking."

"Well, stop. What happened happened. You can't do any good by dwelling on it. You don't know it would have turned out any differently. Hell, we could all have died. We did the right thing." It was Sheppard's warning tone. He was making a proclamation and he didn't want any resistance to it. He could be such a dictator sometimes.

"No. We didn't do the right thing. Abrams died. Brendan died." Those loses were not acceptable. Wasn't Sheppard the one who'd taught him that?

"And whose fault is that?" Sheppard snapped. McKay knew that this wasn't like he normally was. Sheppard would never blame him if it was possible to blame himself. Why give up the role of the tortured hero? But right now he hadn't had time to turn the anger inwards, the pain and the exhaustion must be wearing his patience thin.

McKay's voice didn't waver as he answered. "Mine. But, I'm going to learn from my mistakes. I never should have put that gun in his hand. I never should have let him look in that mirror and I should have hid my insecurities." Even as he felt the crushing guilt, he knew it couldn't be all his fault. It took two to tango and they were both here in this cabin, dancing around it. "But, I never should have had those insecurities. I should have been out with you to begin with. But, if things were up to you, you'd do everything yourself. Do you need that badly to be the hero, Major?" McKay was so angry. Angry at Sheppard. Angry at himself.

"I don't want to be a goddamn hero, McKay." Sheppard spat it and McKay thought he caught a glimpse of red on the major's lips.

But he rolled his eyes. He wasn't in the mood for sympathy right now. Brendan was dead and pity never did anything for anyone except create a fucking welfare state. "Please. You flew MedEvac, how can you tell me you don't like saving the day?"

"Hey, if I didn't, who would?"

Santa Claus? GI Joe? Ralph Nadar? What the hell did it matter? "Someone."

"If everyone said that, the day would never be saved. You're the attention hound, anyway," Sheppard said out of the corner of his mouth. McKay wasn't sure this argument was helping Sheppard's condition, judging but the sweat dampening his normally wild hair, and the slightly glazed look in his eyes.

"John, are you…" Fuck pity. He felt his anger wearing thin, dropping down to reveal the care and concern he tried so hard to hide. They weren't lovers. They weren't partners. They were barely even friends. They just fucked because women were too much trouble and it was too hard not to. The tension would be there whether they fucked or not, they just preferred sex to fistfights to relieve it. But they weren't allowed to care. Caring was a liability. Caring, not sex, was the reason for all those messy fraternization regs. He saw that now.

And Sheppard did too. "I'm fine. Now, fly the damn jumper, McKay."

But McKay wasn't done. "You could have trusted me, John." It wasn't supposed to hurt that Sheppard didn't trust him. Sheppard didn't trust anyone. He probably hadn't trusted anyone after the third or fourth time he'd been forced to move. Even after all they'd been through… Sheppard didn't even trust Ford, and the kid was a fucking automaton. Or an awkward puppy, trotting after its master. Sheppard saw the world as out to get him and he protected himself well, it was arrogant and ridiculously naive for McKay to assume that he would be an exception. "You could have distracted him while I took down the shield. In the very least, two verses one would have been better." Even McKay knew that. He'd been on the 'one' side of that fight enough times to know.

"And you could've gotten killed." Sheppard gritted his teeth, shifting just slightly. But McKay didn't fail to notice that the wince came before, not after the painful movement. "You're not military, McKay, as much as you might want to be."

"I don't want to be military. That's just ridiculous, Major. I was as good as dead anyway, if I'd listened to you and stayed put. If you lost and the Wraith had come for us, I stood about as much of a chance as a, I don't know, a kite in a fucking hurricane. If you truly believed our only chance was an offensive against the Wraith, then it was just plain bad strategy to leave me out of it. What did Sun Tzu say about using your resources? And, let me tell you, I am a pretty good resource." There was room for modesty here. McKay had never pretended to be anything less than arrogant, and it was one of the few things he was truly proud of: he didn't lie. Unlike Sheppard, he never played games.

"You can't even remember when to reload, don't give yourself too much credit." Sheppard seemed as though he was trying to be witty, but it came out as more resentful.

"So I might not be an action hero. I could have deactivated the shield, or distracted the Wraith, or even figured out how to use one of those grenades without almost blowing myself up." Like he said, they both made mistakes.

"Hindsight's 20/20, McKay."

"Ah… the sweet sound of a cliché played to an empty room. Actually, Major, I very clearly remember yelling, make that screaming, at you that we needed to stick together. We could have come up with some kind of plan if you hadn't been so desperate to play cowboy." Sheppard was shaking now, features suddenly pale and older than what McKay was used to. The bruise was a disgusting plum color now and his breathing was coming in small hitched breaths. McKay thought Sheppard had been asleep for the last eight hours, but now it was clear that he just had his eyes closed. He had rejected the morphine because it made him sleepy. Was the man trying to kill himself from exhaustion? "We can talk about this later. You really need to get some rest."

Sheppard hissed, but more in frustration than pain. "You don't know me at all, McKay. Don't pretend to. You want the truth? The truth is that, yes, I did overestimate my advantage, but I didn't want to put you in any danger. I don't like going out on my own when it's likely to be fatal. But I'm the most expendable. I'm not a genius. I'm just some pilot the Air Force doesn't give a shit about. I don't have a family. I'm an only child, my mom's dead, and I don't speak with my father. My best friends died in Afghanistan and I've been single since I joined up. Hell, I've been in Antarctic for the past year. You're the smartest guy on base. And Gaul… he was more important too. He was so young." Sheppard looked away, gasping for breath, and McKay could feel the full force of guilt and grief tugging at him. He saw it on Sheppard's face.

Brendan was dead. He still couldn't believe it. He'd picked the kid up straight out of one the graduate research laboratories at CalTech, mentored him in his own curmudgeonly way, dragging him along on this mission was a perfect example. He didn't think Brendan would ever surpass him in his lifetime, but he hoped that one day in that vague and displaced future when he himself was no longer capable of doing his job, that Brendan would be able to carry the torch. But what now? Brendan had killed himself so that he could go save Sheppard. He had known that Sheppard was important, and so was McKay, whether he wanted to admit it or not. If only… if Sheppard had just realized this, Brendan might not be...

"Don't you dare say you're expendable, John. Maybe in Antarctica. But not here. You're the ranking military officer on this base. You've got the strongest showing of the gene. You're out best pilot. And you have people… um, people who care a lot about you. Brendan knew this. He shot himself to save you. Don't belittle that."

McKay stole a glance at Sheppard's eyes and finally understood survivors guilt, saw his own emotions like a mirror. Brendan was young, yes. And he was brilliant. But right here, right now, in the fight against the Wraith, both Sheppard and McKay were more important. McKay knew this. Reason, logic, they both told him that it must be so. Yes, they both fucked up, but they were probably the two most important people on Atlantis. The guy with the key to the city and the man who could figure out the lock. What the hell were they even doing on the same team? Any good strategist knew not to put all of their eggs in one basket. And they knew to keep key resources away from the front lines. Was that a sham as well? Were they out here, together, day in day out, because they liked it? McKay couldn't imagine going through the gate without Sheppard. Brendan was right, he had changed. And he was beginning to doubt that it was for the better. What had Sheppard done to him?

"I didn't want to put you out there with me, Rodney, because I cared to much." So he said it. Sheppard said the thing that neither of them wanted to hear. The thing that if they just kept it on a tight enough leash, locked in a closet somewhere, they would never have to deal with it. If they could just deny it, they'd never have to change. McKay hated the admission, and he could see Sheppard shuddering, blinking back tears. They were weak. They were both too weak. Why couldn't they just stop themselves?

McKay wanted to cry. But he couldn't. Not in front of Sheppard. They got angry. They bitched and sniped. They didn't cry. Crying was just a symptom of their weakness. Faggots cried. They were just guys that fucked, and didn't care.

McKay raised his chin up high, tried to stop it from shaking. He was gripping the controls so tight now, actually steering was just an illusion. "Maybe I should change teams then." It hurt, but isn't that what heroes did? Didn't they suffer through the pain to do what needed to done instead of whimpering and blabbering like stupid little girls with their panties in a knot? He'd done that before when Koyla stabbed him in the arm, and he saw how everyone looked down at him afterwards. He wasn't doing it again.

"What would we tell Weir?" Sheppard snapped.

"The truth. There's no reason why we can't just tell Elizabeth that we've been having sex and it's beginning to interfere with out working habits. The truth..." God, the truth. It burned inside of him, desperate to break loose. They weren't doing anything wrong. They were misguided, but they were doing what they needed to do to stay sane. Elizabeth was a good woman. She would see that.

"God, Rodney, how naïve _are_ you? It's the civilians that insisted on Don't Ask, Don't Tell, not the military."

John really didn't trust anyone. "You're not saying Elizabeth..."

"For all their flowery words, it's all empty promises. No matter how tolerant Elizabeth likes to pretend to be, this _will_ affect how she looks at me. Society has trained her as it has trained everyone else on this base, except maybe Teyla, to think that there's weakness in it. And I think they're right. But we can't afford to let them see that." McKay could see that nothing he said would change Sheppard's mind. He was the tragic hero, he could never trust someone else to try to ease his burden.

"We're talking about Elizabeth, here, John. Not the fucking Pope, not McCarthy, but Elizabeth. And I thought I was the paranoid one."

Sheppard's voice was as hard as steel, like he was speaking though marbles or rocks. "You're not military. You don't know." Sheppard looked at McKay with the same intensity of the day they were lodged in the Stargate. He'd changed since then. Sheppard had shown him how to hide some of his panic. Sheppard knew how to hide so well… "They say Don't Tell for a damned good reason."

Reasons, reasons, there were so many reasons, and McKay didn't know which ones were right anymore. He couldn't afford to test each competing hypothesis. The guilt alone would be sure to kill him. And Sheppard, the man was even more confused than he was. He had to stop caring. They had to make this right. They had to prove everyone else out there that they were wrong. It was just sex. It didn't have to be dangerous.

"Oh god." Sheppard yelped, clasping at his gut, the motion causing more red to bloom across the sterile white bandaged Ford had wrapped about eight hours before. McKay had hoped that there was no internal damage, and Sheppard had assured him that he was fine. McKay had been stupid to believe him. He had been stupid to put their privacy above Sheppard's health and leave Ford, the best-trained medic, back on the planet.

McKay dropped the controls, there was nothing near to hit, and grabbed Sheppard, who dug his hand into the muscle of McKay's arm, anything to still the pain. McKay reached for the morphine.

"No!" Sheppard made a vain attempted to grab his arm, even as McKay plunged the shot into his supple flesh.

"You asshole!" Sheppard yelled, even as the lines of pain began to ease away. "Promise me, you won't tell."

McKay nodded as Sheppard slowly slipped from consciousness. McKay arranged him carefully on the floor, putting in a call to consult Beckett as he placed his jacket beneath Sheppard's head, stroking his silky soft hair when he whimpered. McKay worried. And he didn't watch his flying. And he snapped at both Beckett and Weir. And he couldn't stop sweating or fidgeting or thinking about that moment after the Wraith had hit the second time, when Sheppard didn't move. And he did it all because he couldn't stop caring when reason dictated that he needed to, so that they wouldn't fuck up again. And he hated himself for it.

TBC?


	2. Rhyme

**Rhyme**

McKay crept through the corridors stealthily. Well, okay, maybe more stealthish; none of the military personnel would have had the slightest bit of trouble tracking him, but he was an astrophysicist, not a secret agent! And he wasn't stomping this time, which made him proud of himself, considering that he hadn't had much practice at this. Sheppard always came to him, after all.

He heard loud voices as Bates and Ford rounded the corridor, arguing emphatically. "...irresponsible behavior, Lieutenant. I hope you can see that. How can you . . ." McKay closed his eyes, trying desperately not to hear, but he couldn't help himself. Curiosity killed the cat, and if life in Pegasus was any sort of indicator so far, it would probably kill him as well. Though part of it would also likely be Sheppard's fault.

". . . They're alive, Gene, that's more than I can ask for. I'd like to see you take out a superWraith." The footsteps stopped just around the corner and McKay couldn't help himself from creeping closer.

"I wouldn't have to. Because I wouldn't have gotten myself into that type of situation and you know it. Tell me, Lieutenant, man to man, what would you have done?"

Ford sighed. McKay could almost hear an eyeroll. "I would have given Gaul a gun, told him to stay put and taken Dr. McKay to figure out some way to protect the jumper, or at least help me take him out."

"My point, exactly, Sir. I know that McKay's just a whiny arrogant _civilian_ most of the time, but he's an able body. A pudgy one, but able, capable of thinking strategically, and certainly the one most likely to think up a plan that would avoid directly engaging the hostile, if only just to save his own hide." Hey! He was _not_ pudgy. He was big boned!

"But I'm not Sheppard. I would have had to take McKay because I don't have the gene and I know next to nothing about the jumpers. Sheppard could afford to not take that risk. We're out here to protect the civilians, not drag them into the line of fire."

"With all due respect, Sir, don't you think that's a bit optimistic of you? We both know that if Sheppard hadn't been his usual insanely lucky self and happened to get taken out, McKay was a sitting duck anyhow. And then we might not even be doing the investigation..."

"Or they could all be dead. But who said anything about an investigation, Gene? Don't you think they've been through enough?"

"You know the rules, Lieutenant. Suicide, questionable decision-making, high death-toll, as head of base security, it's my _obligation_ to investigate."

What the hell? They didn't have the right! Well, they were military, so they didn't necessarily need the right. But Elizabeth wouldn't, couldn't. And Ford. Ford was a good kid. And he was their friend.

But the only resistance was a heavy sigh.

"You know, I'm right."

_Ford! Come on, speak up for your teammates. You can do it_.

"Fine, but I'm not happy about it. I mean, Major Sheppard doesn't always do things by the book, but he always seems to come through."

"Like he came through when we thought we had a mole? Like he came through waking the Wraith?"

"He saved your life!" Ford shouted. Good point. So maybe the kid hadn't been dropped on his head as many times as McKay had previously estimated.

"I would have gladly sacrificed my life to keep Atlantis safe."

"So would he."

"I know, Lieutenant. I can't doubt the major's conviction. I just have a problem with his judgment."

"You are aware that you're speaking about your superior officer, right, Gene?"

"That's why I'm talking to _you_, Aiden, and not to Dr. Weir or Kavanagh's little gang of merry men."

"Calvin has merry men?"

"Well they obviously ain't too merry if they keep hanging around him, but yes. He's a whiny slimy limpdick whimp, Aiden, but what he's saying makes enough sense that people are listening, both military and civilian."

"Military? But that's…"

"I know, believe me, I know. And I'm doing my best to keep a lid on it. But, can't you just see a little beyond your Sheppard hero worship and try to make some suggestions? I'm having a real hard time doing my job when he keeps fucking up like this."

"It's your job, Sergeant. He shouldn't have to do it for you."

"Aiden, please, he listens to you. With a martyr complex like his, he's only going to take all the pain this has caused as a sign of his own greatness."

And then McKay heard something he'd never heard before. It was a hardness in young happy-go-lucky Ford's voice, beyond the determination of battle. It was resentment. "No, he doesn't. He doesn't even listen to Weir, not really. And especially not when McKay supports him. If I said something critical, he'd probably just order me to shut up. You could try Teyla."

"Yeah, that's going to happen."

They both laughed, hollowly.

"I hate to say it, but then McKay's your best bet." Yep, because he would implode Bates' miniscule brain with the piece of his considerable mind the sergeant would be receiving if that ever happened.

"Will you talk to him?"

"Nah, he doesn't trust me to do anything remotely involving thinking. And besides, if you think _I_ hero worship the major, you obviously haven't seen McKay." That was blatantly untrue. He did not hero worship Sheppard. Sure, they joked and flirted and kind of got carried away upon occasion. He respected Sheppard and cared about him, but that wasn't hero worship. When push came to shove, he stood his ground.

_Just like you stood your ground when Sheppard was jerking you off in that ship? Or when he ordered you to stay with Gaul? Or when he made you drop yourself down the proverbial rabbit hole on the Genii homeworld? Or when he made you get friendly with_ children? McKay hated that voice. The voice of doubt. Or maybe of conscience. They were equally menacing.

"What do you mean? All they ever do is fight!" Stupid grunts, didn't get that it was more foreplay than anything else. The meatheads probably didn't know anything other than a few tweaks to some nipples an 'I love you' and good old missionary. Robots.

"Exactly. Have you seen McKay even lower himself to the level of fighting with anybody else? He just snaps at them or, in my case, shakes his head and ignores them. I honestly think he's impressed that the major can hold his own the way he does. Most people just gape, cry or run the other way."

McKay felt his jaw drop. There was an odd… Did Ford know? _Ohmygod,_ Ford knew! Ford was going to rat them out. Sheppard would be court marshaled and Bates would be in charge and McKay would be locked up and nobody would trust him anymore and the respect he'd managed to gain from his fellow scientists would just evaporate once they realized that his libido had allowed Scott and Brendan to get killed.

He was practically hyperventilating now.

"Hey, maybe they're lovers." And now Bates suspected! McKay leaned back against the door as his vision blurred and his breathing increased.

But then came a guffawing laugh. He recognized Aiden's light, almost snorting, chuckle. "Yeah, right. Good one, Gene. I can just imagine that! In fact, I don't _want_ to imagine that. I'm giving you latrine duty in my mind!"

McKay heaved a sigh of relief.

"Hey, did you hear that?"

_Shit!_ McKay took off down the opposite corridor, toward Sheppard's room. They need to talk, really talk this time. After all, Sheppard had the bad manners to pass out during their last conversation. And Aiden Ford needed a spanking. Not the naughty kind, of course. More like the bruising 'betray you teammates to the evil walking talking ginger-bread soldier. Oh, ginger bread. He missed that. The little bakery off Mountain street…

A hundred meters and thirty-seven paranoid glances over his shoulder later, McKay had arrived at Sheppard's door.

He steeled himself and stepped up to the door. To his surprise, it opened. He was sure that Sheppard would have locked it. But then again, Beckett had all these bullshit medical reasons for things, and he was pretty scary with a needle. Of course, he hadn't quite prepared himself yet. Thought he could meditate while rearranging the crystals in Sheppard's door panel.

Instead he just stared at Sheppard, propped up against what looked like every pillow in the city, sitting on one of the medical air mattresses they'd brought from earth, which was laid out on the floor against the wall. One arm was bandaged loosely to Sheppard's chest and the other was resting on his side, holding it, even through the bandages as he took slow breaths in an out. He opened his eyes slowly and sleepily, yawning. Despite the wrapping of his ribs and the icepack that he seemed to have tied to the left side of his face with a shoelace, Sheppard looked regal, sitting straight against his mountain of pillows like that, like some sort of sultan with the eyes of a sphinx.

"Hey," Sheppard yawned.

"Hey." McKay fiddled with his hands, in the absence of anything else to do.

"We should talk." It was a sigh. Sheppard sounded too tired for this. Maybe this was a bad idea. He should go. But instead he said:

"We should." McKay shuffled nervously forward. "Are you all right?"

"I just got the shit beat out of me by a talking vampire catfish with really bad dreads but without the Bob Marley coolness, and can still feel every bruise even on whatever it is the Doc is giving me and sitting on more pillows then I thought we even brought to this galaxy, what do you think?"

"I hope you feel better?" He really did. He hated seeing Sheppard like this. He could feel it almost like a pain in his own chest. Sheppard wasn't supposed to look so fragile. He was supposed to keep coming back. He was never going to leave, if only because McKay didn't know what he would do if he did.

"Thanks, Rodney, I appreciate the sentiment."

McKay nodded, convinced that beneath the sarcasm and the weariness, that was heartfelt. He slid down the wall next to Sheppard's pillow throne, stretching his knees out with a loud crack.

Sheppard smiled slightly, but closed his eyes. "Was that a gunshot?"

"Nope. I'm just getting too old to follow you around, making sure you don't kill yourself."

"I'm getting too old for making sure I don't kill myself." Sheppard joked. "When I was twenty, I fell of a roof, crack some ribs. It wasn't this bad. I was back on my skateboard after a week."

"How'd you fall off a roof?" That was such a Sheppard thing. Especially when he said it so casually like that.

"I was trying to jump my mountain bike from one rooftop to another."

"Oh. Of course, why didn't I think of that? That's a perfectly reasonable thing to want to do. I hope you made some money from _America's Stupidest Wannabes Try to Kill Themselves_."

"Sadly, I couldn't afford a video camera. Besides, I was a kid!"

"Still are."

"C'mon, Rodney, don't tell me you never did anything stupid when you were young."

"Do I even need to dignify that with a response?" McKay smirked.

"Oh, I forgot, Mr. Braintrust just walked out of the womb, said thank-you-very-much and continued to do nothing but brilliance his entire life, without a single mistake."

"Nope, I fully admit that's incorrect. I didn't say 'thank you.' It's not like I choose to be born."

"Ah, I knew there was a problem there somewhere." They both chuckled slightly, Sheppard's more of a wheeze.

Before the silence could get past uncomfortable and into frigid, however, Sheppard turned his head to the side, wincing, and reached out with his good hand to grip McKay's. "We still need to talk."

"I know."

"I'm sorry, Rodney. We fucked up, I admit it."

"Yeah, I think we pretty much got the fact that we fucked up covered, you doing a good impression of the Mummy and all."

"Hey, the Mummy has it better than I do. He generally gets to chase hot chicks around." Sheppard sighed.

"And that's something you would _never_ do." McKay rolled his eyes.

Sheppard rolled his back. "So, we fucked up. What do we do about it?"

McKay bit his lower lip. He wasn't sure. It was more than just reckless horniness or lack of judgment. It was… he didn't know what it was. "I've got nothing." He lifted Sheppard's hand, fingers entwined in his own and then dropped it again.

"We could always stop…" Sheppard let his voice trail off. He didn't need to finish that sentence for them both to know that it wasn't going to happen. They needed it too much. The pressure… well, McKay had never sympathized with those molten lava flows or barometers or diamonds, or anything like that before. But ever since he'd gotten here, he'd understood the weight of the world. And he'd found his release. It wasn't pretty and it was against both regulations and common sense, but he held onto it like the selfish bastard he was because the only alternative was implosion, crushing weight. And he really really didn't like death by suffocation.

"Could we?" McKay turned to face him for the first time, blue eyes piercing.

Sheppard shook his head, dislodging the icepack. McKay gathered it up, puling the cooler with pieces of impossibly round, Ancient-produced ice towards him and refilling what actually turned out to be one of Sheppard's socks. He raised an eyebrow.

"Big bruise." Sheppard responded.

McKay was careful as he replaced the 'bag,' smoothing damp hair from the side of Sheppard's face and noting the tumescent discoloring of Sheppard's handsome features. "Nice color you got going there. Brings out the green in your eyes."

Sheppard smiled, putting on a fake Southern accent. "Why careful, Doctor, you're making me blush."

"Oh how I love those red elephant ears of yours! How they fill my heart with blossoming…um…cherry blossoms."

Sheppard snorted in laughter, grasping his chest. "Don't say things like that to a man on a considerable amount of happy juice."

"I'll try to restrain my astounding wit from now on."

Sheppard just grinned this time, letting the comment fall to silence.

But McKay was not ready for the silence, not when it meant that he had to think about how Sheppard's lips were puffy and kissable moisten by ice-chips as they were, or how even with that ridiculous ice-holding contraption matting his hair, he was attractive. "So... no more sex on missions?" McKay supplied, for lack of anything better to say. Sheppard's gaze was too intense, the lights to dim, the flirtation too tender. This wasn't supposed to be. It was supposed to be about violence and competition and raw need.

But maybe this was need right here, looking into Sheppard's eyes and understanding his pain.

"I was thinking that was pretty much a give in."

"Maybe we should have a schedule."

Sheppard snorted. "Talk about taking all the fun out of it."

"You wouldn't keep one, even if I tattooed it to your forehead, would you?"

Sheppard sighed. "Nope. Not my style."

"We should restrain ourselves, somehow." He didn't want to feel. He didn't want to care, because it hurt so badly, watching the Wraith hit Sheppard, hearing the sickening crack when his ribs snapped, watching time slow as he flew through the air, waiting with baited breath as Sheppard lay motionless, screaming at Beckett over the comm link after Sheppard doubled over in pain. He had enough to worry about taking care of his own skin, and now he was preoccupied with Sheppard as well. It was too much. He didn't want to care… but he did.

"Rodney…" Sheppard looked even more pained now, head tilted just to the side, imploring. "I don't know if I can."

And that was the problem, wasn't it? They didn't need long walks on the beach and love songs and all the beauty and rhyme and romance in the world to care about each other. It had happened, and there was no going back. They had to deal with it now, because it wasn't like a switch you could just turn off, and that frightened him more than anything.

But the Sheppard continued. "But we have to. I can't keep going on missions with you like this, worrying about you all the time. But I'll be even more worried if it's that idiot, Bates, not me, looking after you." McKay winced, not wanting to bring up the conversation he'd overheard in the corridor.

"Or…" It was risky, but he had to try. As much as he wanted this new stirring deep in his chest to go away, this inkling of something more, he now knew enough about art, and new situations and doing what was necessary not what was safe, to know that they couldn't act as though this were the lab, or something that looked great on paper. They were living this, and in all likelihood, they were just going to get closer. He could feel it, like a pain, like a scar, as though Sheppard had marked him forever with this cursed sympathy, this ability to leave his own self for just a moment and care about _someone_. Not just people, but someone in particular.

"Or we could go with it. You know, keep pushing until we come out the other side." McKay practically winced at how stupid it sounded. But he couldn't go back to how it was before either. He'd gotten used to Sheppard's insufferable teasing, the bed hair, the laughs, the _friendship_. And he wasn't giving that up without a fight, either!

"Come out?" Sheppard played nervously with the bedcovers that pooled around his waist.

"No, not come out, you idiot. I mean… we're not going to stop caring about each other. I'm going to do everything I can to protect you and you're going to do the same for me. That's not going to change no matter what we do and we have to accept that. But maybe… maybe if we just stop trying to deny this and hold ourselves back until the worst possible moments, it will be easier to stay objective."

Sheppard nodded slightly, half-frowning in the way he always did when he was thinking hard about something. "You mean you want chocolate and flowers and… you know, a relationship?" He winced at the word.

"Well, I could always use more chocolate. Blood sugar, you know. But I think we already are in a relationship. A really dysfunctional one. But who wants to be normal, eh?"

"With you, I don't think normal's possible."

"A mark of genius." McKay smiled.

Sheppard smiled back.

And then he did something that had never happened before. Sheppard leaned forward, just slightly, blinking like he had something in his eye. McKay leaned in to see if there was something in there, and before he knew it, Sheppard's lips were on his own. Sheppard kissed like the captain of the football team, or a male lead in a romantic comedy: hungry, with mouth gaping open and lots of tongue. It was new. And kind of gross.

McKay pulled back. "What the hell was that?"

Sheppard made to shrug, but seemed to think the better of it. "A relationship thing? Going with it?"

"Hmm… Interesting…" McKay replied, bringing his fingers up to his now saliva-coated lips.

"Interesting? You call that interesting? Rodney, you just kissed another guy and that's all you have to say?" It was different than kissing a girl. He'd really have to do more to develop a full comparison. But it was far from unwelcome, right even. He didn't know where this would lead, maybe to nothing, but he had already lost some of the trapped feeling from earlier, the overwhelming hatred. This was something he _needed_ to try, he decided.

"Well it was… interesting. Technique could be improved, but you know me, I'm not picky."

"Like hell you're not! And what's wrong with my technique? I've never had any complaints from _women_." Sheppard made it sound as though McKay was in the wrong just because all his little bimbettes didn't know a good kisser when they found one.

McKay shrugged. "I'm not a woman."

"No, you just faint like one." Sheppard's comeback was muted by a yawn.

"Okay, looks like its time for little majors to be off to bed," McKay said quietly.

"I'm not tired," Sheppard mumbled, even as his eyes drifted shut. McKay stared at him for just a moment –or maybe three- before he pushed off the wall and prepared to leave. But before he could get anywhere, Sheppard's hand had reached out to grip his. "I'ma 'ood kisser," he mumbled, "stay."

McKay sighed, but he was smiling. He could teach Sheppard how to kiss later. Right now he just wanted to feel that warm hand on his, a confirmation that Sheppard was still there, and he cared.


End file.
